


i don't wanna be your friend bro

by goldiesox



Category: Thai Actor RPF, เกลียดนักมาเป็นที่รักกันซะดีๆ | TharnType: The Series (TV) RPF, เพราะเราคู่กัน | 2gether: The Series (Thailand TV) RPF
Genre: Angst, Break Up Talk, Childhood Friends, Childhood Sweethearts, Fluff, Friends With Benefits, Friends to Lovers, Hand Jobs, Hook-Up, Hurt/Comfort, Intercrural Sex, M/M, Post-Break Up, Romance, Second Chances
Language: English
Status: Completed
Published: 2021-01-12
Updated: 2021-01-12
Packaged: 2021-03-17 01:27:33
Rating: Explicit
Warnings: Creator Chose Not To Use Archive Warnings
Chapters: 1
Words: 6,096
Publisher: archiveofourown.org
Story URL: https://archiveofourown.org/works/28716501
Author URL: https://archiveofourown.org/users/goldiesox/pseuds/goldiesox
Summary: Gulf aggressively swipes away the notifications from Mew at the top of his phone—two calls, six texts, and a LINE message—because what is there even left to say? Instead, he scrolls through his contacts, thumbing through friends until his fingers become sore. Every friend seems too close to him, or too close to Mew—so close that they would take one good look at his puffy, ashen face and ask, “Are you okay?” Gulf doesn’t need that right now. He needs to be distracted. Gulf’s thumb stops when it catches on Bright’s name, mostly because he’s the only other person in his phone besides Mew that has a sun emoji next to his name.Mew and Bright are so different it’s laughable, but that’s what makes Gulf call him.They’re friendly, but not too close. Bright won’t ask questions.“Hey,” he says too quickly, giving away his nervousness. Before he does something stupid like run back to Mew’s condo or worse, cry in the street, he asks, “Are you free right now?”
Relationships: Bright Vachirawit Chivaaree & Gulf Kanawut Traipipattanapong, Bright Vachirawit Chivaaree/Gulf Kanawut Traipipattanapong, Mew Suppasit Jongcheveevat/Gulf Kanawut Traipipattanapong
Comments: 40
Kudos: 252





	i don't wanna be your friend bro

**Author's Note:**

> I'm a lover of friends-to-lovers so their first public interaction broke me. Gulf calling Bright P'Bright also broke me.
> 
> https://twitter.com/Kazzmagazine/status/1347445685109460993
> 
> Disclaimer: This is fiction.

The day that Mew and Gulf break up, Gulf walks for a long time. The ever present crowd of people makes it easier to just float, to stay focused on the simple act of putting one foot in front of the other and avoiding bumping into people, just so he doesn’t have to think about Mew.

By the time he stops to crouch down on a curb, it’s nearly pitch black outside, but the colourful lights of Bangkok make it feel less so. He wishes it was brighter, like it was under the blinding white lights of a football field, so he wouldn’t feel so alone, and suddenly the ideal distraction is so obvious he’s annoyed he didn’t think of it sooner.

Gulf aggressively swipes away the notifications from Mew at the top of his phone—two calls, six texts, and a LINE message—because what is there even left to say? Instead, he scrolls through his contacts, thumbing through friends until his fingers become sore. Every friend seems too close to him, or too close to Mew—so close that they would take one good look at his puffy, ashen face and ask, “Are you okay?” Gulf doesn’t need that right now. He needs to be distracted. Gulf’s thumb stops when it catches on Bright’s name, mostly because he’s the only other person in his phone besides Mew that has a sun emoji next to his name.

Mew and Bright are so different it’s laughable, but that’s what makes Gulf call him.

They’re friendly, but not too close. Bright won’t ask questions.

“Hey,” he says too quickly, giving away his nervousness. Before he does something stupid like run back to Mew’s condo or worse, cry in the street, he asks, “Are you free right now?”

* * *

Gulf is right. 

The bright white lights of the football field do make him feel less alone, even if the only people on the field right now are Bright and him, and a group of grade school boys who are just kicking off their cleats to head home.

“You’ve gotten soft, bro,” Bright yells, striding over to him while lazily rolling the ball forward. They’ve been playing for just over an hour so there’s a healthy sheen of sweat on him, enough that he has to push his hair back so it doesn’t cling to his face. It makes him look handsome, but right now it just reminds Gulf of Mew, and he wishes Bright would stop.

“I’m soft?” Gulf shoots back.

Bright nods and smirks, waving at Gulf’s slim but noticeably softer waist, before pulling up his own black shirt to reveal his abs and then dropping it.

“You’re soft.”

“You’re hilarious,” Gulf says. “Who just scored on you three times in a row?” He darts forward and steals the ball from Bright, running around him and sprinting across the field before kicking the ball into the net. He’s not muscular like Bright and he’s not properly dressed at all, only wearing a pair of basketball shorts and the runners he had when he left the condo, but he’s still faster than Bright and almost anyone else.

“Four now!” Gulf says, after an obnoxious whoop. He kicks the ball back to Bright, and he catches it under one foot. “Being _hard_ isn’t going to help you if you can’t even catch me, _bro_.”

“You think I can’t catch you?” Bright asks. He looks irritatingly casual and unbothered, just striding across the field like Gulf hasn’t scored on him four times in a row, and Gulf wonders if this is how Mew feels in the face of Gulf’s nonchalance.

Gulf definitely hadn’t been nonchalant when he left him. But he’s not supposed to be thinking about that right now.

“I know you can’t,” Gulf says with a cheeky smile.

Bright nods exaggeratedly before he runs forward, circling around Gulf before he can even react and scoring on his goal.

“Hey!” Gulf yells with a laugh. They shove against each other to get the ball before Gulf finally does, giggling as he runs away.

This is easy: playing football, getting his blood pumping, and having a single-minded goal. This he can do.

“You’re not as fast as you think you are!” Bright says, coming after him.

“Prove it!”

Bright does, nearly body checking Gulf in his haste to get the ball. They fall to the ground in a heap, Bright laughing and Gulf giggling. The hum of the city and streets is still audible, but besides that Gulf can only hear their laughter and then their heavy panting. They lie on the plastic grass next to each other for a few minutes before Bright turns to look at him.

“I’ll give you this,” Bright says, “you might be soft but you are fast, P’Gulf.”

The nickname is teasing, Gulf is only a few days older after all, but it’s like a bucket of cold water.

Gulf sits up abruptly, the smile on his face dropping.

“Can you not call me that?” he snaps, unnecessarily harsh, the words hoarse.

_Don’t remind me of him anymore._

Bright sits up slowly and gently touches his knee. Gulf can’t see his face because of his own hair flopping in his face, but his hand is warm.

“Sorry, man,” Bright says tentatively. “I was just joking.” He sounds confused.

“It’s okay,” Gulf says, swallowing and trying to add some levity back to their conversation. “Sorry, I just...yeah. I’m really sorry.”

Nothing he could say right now wouldn’t sound crazy.

_“Don’t call me P’Gulf because my ex-boyfriend loved to call me that. You might have heard of him?” Yeah, right._

One thing Mew taught him was that he couldn’t trust anyone in this industry. Mew included, apparently. Gulf doesn’t know where that leaves Bright. His colleague, but also his old friend.

“Nothing to be sorry about,” Bright says, and Gulf can hear him shrug. He’s the only person Gulf knows that’s more chilled out than he is. But then he asks the cursed question.

“Are you okay?”

Gulf freezes and keeps his eyes on his knees so he doesn’t have to look at him.

“Yeah,” he says, and his voice sounds funny even to his own ears. “Why wouldn’t I be okay?”

Bright doesn’t move his hand from his spot on his knee and it feels pointed.

“Gulf,” Bright says, and he realizes it’s the first time he’s said his name straight. “We haven’t hung out like this in...”

“A while,” Gulf says with an empty chuckle.

“Yeah. A really long while.”

“I didn’t think you’d say yes,” Gulf says honestly, “I thought you’d have a photoshoot or something.”

“Then why did you call me?” That’s something Gulf has always liked about Bright. He cuts right to the chase, and he doesn’t leave him confused. But right now Gulf wishes he was someone who overlooked things and left things unsaid.

“I don’t know,” Gulf lies with a shrug, finally looking at him. He’s shocked at how close Bright is, his handsome but cold face only a few inches away from his own.

“I don’t believe that.”

“Well, it’s the truth.”

“You’re lying.”

“Do I need a reason to want to hang out with you?” Gulf asks.

Bright pauses and Gulf cocks his head, blinking at him slowly and inconspicuously, trying to make his unshed tears disappear without Bright noticing.

“You do when you’ve been avoiding me for months,” Bright says bluntly.

Gulf didn’t think Bright would notice, but it’s true. He knew Mew didn’t like Bright, so he avoided him. Not just because he and Gulf were old friends and Mew was possessive, but because Bright had everything that Mew had been working for for a decade and still hadn’t entirely achieved. The fame, the good looks, the fans—and all with ease and before the age of twenty-three. Mew didn’t just dislike Bright. He _hated_ him.

“My boyfriend didn’t like us being friends,” Gulf says without thinking. He’s not like Mew. He hates speaking in riddles and half-truths, and he trusts Bright. Even if doing so is entirely stupid after finding out he can’t trust the one person he thought would always have his back.

Bright doesn’t react at the word “boyfriend” but he looks bothered by something else.

“What is he, your keeper?” Bright asks, sharply. “You couldn’t see me because your _boyfriend_ didn’t want you to?”

“It wasn’t like that,” Gulf says, unable to let Bright think the worst of Mew, even after their breakup.

Bright lets it pass, but he still looks annoyed. Annoyance on Bright looks like a dark day, a storm brewing under the cover of seemingly still clouds.

“So what,” Bright says, “Your boyfriend decided that I was okay to see again, and you finally decided to stop dodging my calls?”

Gulf shakes his head and smiles weakly because that would never happen.

“No,” Gulf croaks, “we broke up.”

There’s a pregnant pause that’s so loud Gulf has to bring his arm across his eyes, to hide his face from view.

“Oh, man,” Bright says, “hey—”

It’s too late because Gulf is already crying into his arm and trying to hide it, but Bright is so close it’s impossible. He gets even closer when he wraps one of his corded arms around Gulf’s shoulders and presses his forehead to Gulf’s temple.

“I’m sorry,” Bright whispers, while they both pretend like Gulf isn’t struggling not to cry. “I’m really sorry.”

“I should say that,” Gulf says, “I didn’t want to do this, that’s why I called you. I’m sorry.”

“How about we both stop apologizing?” Bright says, and then he pulls Gulf’s head against his shoulder, stroking his head and his shoulders, cupping the back of Gulf’s neck while he snivels and tries to return to normal, because he feels too exposed.

“Breakups are hard,” Bright struggles, and Gulf giggles at his obvious attempt at a meaningful platitude.

“You think that’s funny?” Bright asks, squeezing the back of his neck.

“You trying to comfort me is funny,” Gulf says, but he doesn’t move away from the fold of his arms. He curls his legs towards Bright to make it even clearer, almost sitting in his lap because of how firmly Bright is holding him. “But I appreciate it. Thank you.”

“Hey, OSK boys always got to stick together, right?” Bright asks.

Gulf smiles against his shoulder and nods into his shirt.

“Always,” Gulf says, and then he feels safe enough to pull away from Bright’s arms, but Bright doesn’t let him go.

“I mean it,” Bright says, “I know we haven’t talked in a long time because of work or your controlling boyfriend or whatever—”

“He’s not—”

“But you know you can always call me, right? If you need a game or you want to talk or...even if you just want to cry on me.”

Gulf shoves him because he’s sure it’s a joke, but Bright looks totally serious.

It’s almost romantic until Bright extends his hand and says, “Pink and blue blood for life.”

Gulf smiles and only remembers at the last minute not to intertwine their fingers when he slaps it against Bright’s.

“Of course. Pink and blue blood for life.”

Bright uses their joined hands to pull Gulf to his feet, steadying him and brushing off his backside and then his own, before walking over to get the ball that’s rolled onto the wayside.

“I don’t think either of us is up for another game,” Bright says, “It’s almost two.”

Gulf didn’t even notice because of the daze he’d been in when he left Mew’s condo. But he’s right either way. After crying he feels drained and small even at his six feet. He’s too tired to play another game.

“Let me take you home,” Bright says, coming back over with his bag over his shoulder, and Gulf’s in his hand.

“I’m not going home tonight,” Gulf says, taking it from him. They slowly walk towards Bright’s car as they talk. “I told my parents I was staying at his place so if I go home now they’re going to ask me why and I just...can’t deal with that right now. So it’s cool.” He nods at Bright. “I’ll just head over to one of the street markets and wander around until morning.”

Bright looks at him with an oddly serious expression, which is saying something.

“I don’t think that’s a good idea.”

“Why not?” Gulf asks with a laugh. “I can remember you and I doing that more than a few times when we were at OSK.”

Bright smiles at the memory before it fades, his grim expression remaining.

“Yeah, but we were kids back then. Now we...you’re famous, man. It’s not safe for you to be walking around all night. Especially alone.”

Gulf knows Bright is right, but he still feels corked and full of tension that he wants to get out. Crying and football hadn’t done the trick, but maybe walking until his legs burned would.

“You can stay at mine,” Bright says, “my Mae’s asleep and there’s plenty of room. I can drop you at your place in the morning.”

Gulf shifts uncomfortably. “...are you sure?” he asks. Everything his mother has instilled in him is telling him it’s rude to impose, but Bright nods eagerly, or as eager as Bright can be.

“It’s no big deal, seriously. I’d rather you be on my couch than out here all night.”

“If you’re sure then, yeah. Thanks,” Gulf says with a smile when Bright takes his duffle bag to load into the car.

“Don’t mention it.”

Gulf climbs in and watches the bright street signs swim past, but the ride to Bright’s house is short. Gulf remembers visiting Bright’s place in high school, but it only happened once. Bright had lived in a shabby two bedroom apartment with his mother—peeling plastic floors, smoke-stained walls, with a stove from the 90s—and Bright _never_ wanted them to come over. Instead, he’d go on and on about the house he would buy for his mother one day, until nobody cared to listen except Gulf. He never minded anyone talking too much, because it meant he didn’t have to. All of that is a distant memory now, a far cry from the impressive white house with the high wiry gate that they pull into.

“You got your dream house,” Gulf says absent-mindedly, when they walk inside, his eyes curiously running over the polished floors and the high white walls.

“What?”

“Your dream house,” Gulf says, turning to look at him, “The one you said you wanted to buy your Mae when we were kids.”

Bright gives him a strange, soft look.

“You remember that?”

“You talked about it so much it’s kind of hard not to,” Gulf says, jokingly nudging him to make that look disappear.

It doesn’t work because Bright grabs Gulf’s hand where he shoved him and brings it and his own fingers to Gulf’s lips.

“Shh. My Mae is sleeping.”

Gulf lets Bright lead him through his house in the dark, guiding him up the stairs and down the hall, Gulf silently following and using Bright’s hand as an anchor.

When they enter what Gulf assumes is Bright’s room, Bright turns on a lamp and then gently closes the door before locking it behind him. It makes Gulf stomach clench, and he doesn’t know why.

“If you want to shower there’s an ensuite,” Bright says pointing towards a door in the corner, “Clothes are in the dresser, you can wear whatever you want.”

“Cool,” Gulf says, “thanks, I will.” Bright flops on the bed and starts scrolling through his phone and Gulf is less self-conscious about taking off his shirt and grabbing a new pair of shorts and a shirt from Bright’s drawer. Something stops him from taking off his shorts, even though they’ve been naked around each other countless times.

 _You were kids back then_ , his brain screams, and he goes to change in the bathroom.

The hot shower erodes the pain of the day so Gulf makes it hotter and hotter until he’s bright pink and tingling when he emerges from the bathroom dressed in Bright’s clothes. Bright is considerably less pink but also freshly showered, shirtless, except for a pair of sweatpants.

Gulf awkwardly shifts in front of the bathroom door until Bright looks up and notices him. He smirks when he does.

“What did you do?” Bright asks, “Cook yourself?” Gulf grins back at the dig and feels comfortable enough to perch on the bed next to him.

“I just like hot showers.” Gulf shrugs, shaking the moisture from his hair with his towel before letting it hang across his head like a damp veil.

“I prefer cold ones,” Bright says, while meeting his eyes. Gulf pauses for a moment too long, his ears going red, hidden under the guise of his hot shower.

“They’re nice in the summer,” Gulf says awkwardly. He shyly drags the towel down his neck before hanging it on one bedpost and grabbing a pillow. He tries to stand, but Bright grabs his wrist.

“Where are you going?” Bright asks.

Gulf cocks his head at the door.

“You said I could sleep on the couch. I’m going to go look for the couch.”

“You wouldn’t be able to find the couch. Besides, this is a king bed, there’s plenty of room. Just sleep here.”

Bright shifts to one side and Gulf can’t do anything but curl up next to him, even if he tries to keep a respectable space between them.

“This reminds me of camp,” Gulf says, attempting to connect this to a moment in time that was more innocent so he doesn’t think about why his stomach is churning or why his skin is itching. The untapped energy that made him want to walk around the city all night thrums through his body.

“I only went the one time.”

“I know. You hated it.” Gulf smiles and turns onto his side, pulling his legs up and facing Bright with his pillowed hands under his cheek. “It was more fun when you were there though.”

“Oh yeah?” Bright turns towards him, folding one of his arms behind his head.

“You were the only one that was as bad as me.” Gulf smiles, thinking back on the time they buried Tong’s clothes in the mud after swimming, and another time when they put freshly caught fish in the teacher’s shoes. “The other guys were such babies, they never wanted to join in on my pranks because they were afraid they’d get punished.”

“I don’t think you’re allowed to call anyone a baby anymore, Kanawut.”

“Why not? Wasn’t I bad?”

Bright snorts and says, “You were. But you were never as bad as you thought you were. I was way worse. And now...”

His eyes run over Gulf’s face and shoulders, lingering on the tops of his soft knees, before going back up to meet his eyes.

“What?” Gulf asks, shyly. He wants to squirm and hide under the covers, but that would give too much away.

“You got super cute,” Bright says frankly.

Gulf stills, at a loss for words. His friends called him handsome, often enough, but cute, pretty, and beautiful, were only things people who met him as Gulf Kanawut said.

“I’m still a tough guy.” Gulf tries to play it off with a grin. “What are you talking about?”

“There’s nothing tough about this,” Bright says, reaching around Gulf’s knees to pinch at his soft tummy, and then his cheek.

“You were always cute though,” Bright says. His hand still hasn’t moved from Gulf’s cheek, lazily thumbing the soft skin before trailing upward to sink his hand into Gulf’s hair.

This is weird. Friends don’t do this, and bros definitely don’t. But Gulf lets Bright pet him like a cat and doesn’t complain, because his hand is warm.

“Well, you were skinny and weird looking,” Gulf says, trying to save face. “Especially with those old glasses.”

Bright smirks but doesn’t look bothered, continuing to run his hand through Gulf’s hair.

“And now?”

Gulf rolls his eyes and gives Bright a look that just makes his smirk deepen.

“You know what you look like.”

“I know, but what do _you_ think I look like? I told you.”

“You’re handsome,” Gulf mumbles. “Happy now? You’re very handsome.”

“That all?”

“Sexy, hot, the whole five stars.”

“Hotter than your ex?”

Gulf stares at him for a long few seconds, sure that he must have misheard him, but Bright just stares back at him impassively, his thumb still stroking circles into the crown of Gulf’s head.

“Why would you ask me something like that?” Gulf asks, his voice unsteady. The force of his own anger surprises him. He shoves Bright’s hand away and nearly dives off the bed—to get his duffle bag, to leave, to do anything besides stay in this room and be mocked—but Bright wraps his arms around him before he can.

“I’m sorry, fuck,” Bright says, “Don’t leave, I’m sorry. I’m just pissed.”

“ _You’re_ pissed?” Gulf says with a wet chuff.

“I’ve just never seen you this sad before,” Bright says, “It pisses me off, because I know he couldn’t have been that great if he broke up with you.”

Gulf deflates against Bright, the flight leaving him. Bright takes all of his weight, pulling him back down onto the bed, wrapping his body around the curve of Gulf’s back.

“You’re right,” Gulf says, “he wasn’t as great as I thought he was.” He sniffles into the pillow and is glad that he’s facing the wall, that Bright is only looking at the back of his neck and can’t see his tears.

Bright doesn’t say a word, and Gulf takes it as permission to speak.

“He said I used him,” Gulf croaks, “he said that all I do is...all I know how to do is use people.”

He trembles and curls even further into himself, his arms crossing over his chest in a poor attempt to hold himself together, to prevent the wound Mew had given him from bursting open.

Bright presses a chaste kiss to the back of his neck. It’s so light it could be played off like an accidental brush, but to Gulf it feels like a shock.

“Bright—”

“What a fucking _asshole_.”

“You...don’t even know what happened.”

“I know that you’ve never used anyone. Gulf, you’re the most loyal person I know.”

“We haven’t talked in months,” Gulf says.

“So?” Bright says, “ _I_ know you. A lot longer than he has, that’s for sure.”

Gulf turns around in his arms and almost recoils at Bright’s face. It’s passionate and completely unfamiliar to Gulf.

“I never said who he was.”

“Come on,” Bright says, “It’s not like it’s hard to figure out. He can go fuck himself.”

“ _Bright_.” Gulf might be angry, but he still can’t bring himself to insult Mew, both as an ex and as a Phi. Bright has never had the same reservations about seniors.

“I mean it,” he says, and Gulf feels an odd mixture of trepidation and happiness. He’s never had someone believe in him and defend him so blindly before.

“He said you use people?” Bright furiously repeats, like he can’t even believe it, his eyes tracing over Gulf’s tear flushed face. Then he leans forward, closing the gap left between them to press a charged kiss to Gulf’s cheek. He looks just as electrified as Gulf feels when he pulls back with half-lidded eyes and says, “Then use me to get over him.”

He kisses Gulf again, gently pecking across his soft cheek until he reaches his lips, and Gulf is so shocked he moves purely based on habit, even if the person is completely different. His arms curl around Bright’s neck and his legs part for him, only so he can roll on top of him, his ass cushioned over the spread of Bright’s legs, seated right on his lap.

“What the fuck?” Gulf gasps when he pulls back for air, but Bright has already pushed his shirt to the side so he can press kisses to his neck. “I thought you were straight,” Gulf moans because Bright has started to _bite_.

“I prefer girls,” Bright says, in a husky voice, “Doesn’t mean I don’t like guys too.” Despite being the same, it still feels surreal, sitting on his childhood friend’s lap—on _Bright’s_ lap—in his bed, with his hard cock jutting between Gulf’s cheeks through his sweatpants.

“Still,” Gulf whines, pushing back into his lap, despite his words. “still—”

“Fuck, you’re cute,” Bright says into his neck, and Gulf feels his insides go hot.

“Bright,” Gulf complains, when Bright rolls him onto his back so he’s looking up at him.

Bright grabs his face with one hand and smoothes out the concerned furl between his brows with his thumb.

“Gulf,” he says, “You’re not going to break my heart if you use me to feel better for one night. This isn’t going to change anything between us, I promise.”

_Leave it to Bright to know exactly what I’m worried about and cut right to the chase._

The lingering anxiety in Gulf’s stomach disappears at his words, and how surely Bright says them.

“Are you sure?” Gulf asks, tentatively.

Bright smiles down at him and nods, his eyes going soft, like they had when Gulf remembered his childhood wish.

“So come on,” Bright says. He hikes Gulf’s leg up, dragging him closer to his body so their groins are pressed together. “Use me.”

Gulf answers by kissing him back. He’s even gentler than Bright because this is new and unfamiliar after kissing the same person for two years, but Bright doesn’t rush him. Gulf learns that Bright kisses deeper than Mew, and slower. He likes to fuck his tongue into Gulf’s mouth until he can barely breathe and then suckle on Gulf’s tongue so he can.

“I thought you were a terrible kisser,” Gulf moans when Bright finally stops kissing him to suckle on his neck. He whines when he pushes his shirt up next, lazily rolling one of Gulf’s nipples between two fingers.

“Why?”

“I watched your show,” Gulf says, with a snort.

Bright pinches his nipple for that, making Gulf yelp, but it’s quickly soothed by Bright’s tongue, his other hand rolling Gulf’s ignored nipple like he did to the first.

Gulf’s basketball shorts are pulled down past his ass while he works, Bright’s hand slipping into his shorts to pull out his cock.

“Fuck,” Gulf moans, pulling his wrists over his mouth to bite down when Bright wraps one big hand around his length and squeezes.

“Don’t do that,” Bright gasps, dragging his mouth away from Gulf’s chest, but still slowly jerking his cock as he tugs his wrists away, pinning them over his head. “I want to hear you when I make you feel good.”

“But Bright, your Mae—” Gulf tries, but Bright won’t let go of him, pinning him in his grip as he continues to jerk Gulf off, so all he can do is bury his face in Bright’s neck and whimper, trying not to be too loud.

“I want to touch you too,” Gulf complains because this is torture. Him with his shirt pulled up to his neck and shorts pulled down, but Bright still covered in a pair of sweatpants. He can’t even grope his chest and arms, which he’s wanted to do since Bright flashed his abs at him out on the football field.

“Bright,” Gulf whines, writhing in his grip, but Bright’s too focused on the task at hand to listen to him. Gulf learned a lot of things from Mew, and how to get a man’s attention is one of them. “...P’Bright?” he tries, completely embarrassed, but also completely expecting it to work.

Bright lets out a hissed, _fuck_ , and his grip loosens enough for Gulf to escape and wrap one arm around his neck, appreciatively sliding the other down Bright’s toned chest, and into his sweatpants.

“You’re older than me,” Bright pants, even when Gulf wraps his hand around his cock, pulling it out of the confines of his briefs. Gulf would be offended if he wasn’t so distracted by the weight of Bright’s cock in his hand. He peers down to look at it, and can only see the head between them, fat and leaking into the palm of his hand.

“So what?” Gulf says, “P’Bright liked it.”

Bright’s cock jerks in his hand, confirming Gulf’s words.

“If you keep calling me that I’m going to come,” Bright says, seriously.

He pushes Gulf’s hand away and grabs both of their lengths in one hand. Gulf lets out a high moan at the contact, hiding his head back into the burrow of Bright’s neck.

Hunching over him, Bright lets out a quiet grunt, jerking them both faster until the only noises Gulf is making are little huffs and keening whimpers, encouraging Bright to continue by pushing back into his grip.

They’re both naturally quiet people and for once Gulf dislikes it, because all he can hear are his own embarrassing whimpers and moans, his breathy gasps and whines, all while Bright only grunts lowly in his ear, like he’s barely even phased.

“Your sound so sweet,” Bright says, “Sweeter than a girl.”

“Shut up, no I don’t,” Gulf says. It’s easy to slip back into locker room talk, even when Bright has his hand around his dick and is quickening, Gulf letting out aborted squeaks and drooling onto his shoulder a bit the closer he comes to the end.

“You do,” Bright says, then he whispers right in Gulf’s ear, “Would you sound this sweet if I stuck my dick in you?”

Gulf’s orgasm hits him like a train, dragged out of him by Bright’s words, and he has to bite down on his shoulder so he doesn’t yell, his entire body shaking as he spills into Bright’s hand.

When he comes back to himself, his eyes hazy and trembling, he can feel Bright’s cock still hard against his, intimidating and bulging now that Gulf’s own cock is soft.

“Oh,” Gulf says, when he feels it, pulling back from Bright’s neck to look down at it. He looks back up at Bright’s face, but he’s not upset or annoyed, only pleased.

“That was cute,” Bright says. He wipes his come soaked hand on his own sweatpants and then uses his other hand to push Gulf’s hair back, tracing his wet, red-rimmed eyes.

He moves like he’s going to get off of him, but Gulf traps him with his thighs.

“What about you?” Gulf asks, urgently, “You’re still hard.”

“I told you, I like cold showers. I can just go take care of myself.”

“That’s not fair though,” Gulf pouts, “You helped me.”

“Gulf,” Bright says, “I told you to _use me_. This wasn’t about me, and it’s not a big deal. Seriously.” He leans down and kisses Gulf’s forehead, making his heart stutter in his chest. “Don’t worry about it, okay?”

 _I don’t want this to end just yet_ , Gulf thinks, desperate to make this last just a little longer. Instead, he says, “I want to make you come too.”

Bright stops and stares down at him with heated eyes. Then he kisses him, slow and deep, like he did in the beginning.

“You want to make me come, huh?” he whispers when he pulls back. He pats Gulf’s bare hip, making him jump. “Roll over then.”

Gulf does it quickly, watching Bright throw his sweatpants on the floor, and then flinching when he leans over Gulf to pull his ruined shorts off from around his thighs, so he’s completely bare.

“I’m not going to fuck you.”

“I didn’t think you were,” Gulf says, embarrassed that Bright’s said his obvious concern aloud.

“Yes, you did.” Bright sounds amused.

Gulf buries his face into the pillow to hide his embarrassed face, and only peaks back when he feels Bright blanket his back, and the cool, wet feeling of lotion between his thighs. Bright’s cock presses in between the plushness of his thighs, slicked by whatever he’s poured between Gulf’s legs.

“Spread your legs for me,” Bright whispers in his ear, “just a little.”

“You said—”

“I’d never do something like that without asking you first.”

Bright wraps his hand around his wrist, and the other around his waist, and he’s so _warm_ and sure of his words, Gulf does as he’s told, trusting that Bright will keep his promise. 

Bright’s cock is hot and thick between his thighs when he spreads them, just jutting against the furl of Gulf’s hole, before sliding down between his thighs.

“I’m going to fuck your thighs now,” Bright says, and then he’s thrusting forward, sliding the leaking head against Gulf’s hole before pulling back and doing it all over again. Every thrust pushes Gulf’s face into the pillows, so all his moans are muffled while Bright mock fucks him. There’s no other word for this, Bright fucking himself between Gulf’s thighs—making Gulf feel small and pinned and spread wide—but not actually stuffing his cock inside him.

 _I don’t want him to_ , Gulf tells himself, _I don’t_. It’s too soon after Mew. That doesn’t change the fact that he imagines Bright’s cock catching on his hole, maybe by accident, maybe on purpose, and him pressing his cock inside, spreading Gulf wide around the thick, leaking head while he squirms with overwhelmed confusion, because _it’s too soon_. It’s just a fantasy, but Gulf has to bite down on the pillow so he doesn’t vocalize it.

“ _Fuck_ ,” Bright hisses, his hips jerking as his thrusts quicken, his hips digging into Gulf’s hips and dragging them upward so he can fuck the slick channel of his thighs more firmly. Every time he does there’s a lewd, wet noise, the skin slapping together and filling the otherwise quiet room.

“You’re so wet,” Bright says, and it’s uncreative dirty talk by anyone’s standard, but Gulf can’t bring himself to respond when he’s so embarrassed of what he’s thinking, and how Bright is using him, all but fucking him face first into the bed.

Luckily he doesn’t have to, because Bright buries his cock between the funnel of Gulf’s thighs and comes, shooting so hard that Gulf can feel when his hot come hits his hole and trickles down his thighs.

Bright leans back and pants before digging one thumb between Gulf’s cheeks when he’s done, spreading it so the come trickles even further as if he has actually fucked him.

“Stop being gross,” Gulf says, but he doesn’t move, letting Bright spread his cheeks with both hands and _look_ for just a little too long, before he clenches his thighs and rolls over.

“Sorry,” Bright says, sounding anything but.

Bright looks wrecked and Gulf imagines he doesn’t look much better. They’re both shiny with sweat and stained with come, their chests heaving.

“There,” Gulf says, to break the tense silence. He leans forward shyly, like Bright’s come isn’t still painting his thighs and says, “now we’re even,” before he kisses him.

Bright returns it but he looks dazed and amiss when Gulf breaks it, and Gulf wonders if he can feel the unintentional finality of it too. Bright promised nothing would change between them, but Gulf wishes he hadn’t. Because now he has to respect it.

“Thank you,” Gulf says quietly, “for making me feel better.”

The heated thrum that had filled him since he left Mew’s condo is gone, and now he only feels sated, and a little empty. He isn’t sure if it’s because of Mew, or Bright, or both of them.

“What else are friends for?” Bright asks, and then he kisses Gulf again, completely undercutting it.

They end up stretched back out on the bed trading heated kisses, and Gulf is grateful for it because if either of them stops then this is over. 

“Just a little more?” Bright says, when he breaks the kiss to suck hickeys into Gulf’s neck again. On any other occasion Gulf would tell him to stop, but half of his schedules have been cancelled because of the pandemic so Bright can mark him up as much as he wants. He can have this...for as long as he wants.

“Come on, Kanawut. Just a little more.”

“Fine,” Gulf agrees, reaching up to clutch at his hair, “just a little more.”

**Author's Note:**

> I might make this a verse? Either the Gulf's Hot Girl Winter Universe or the BrightGulf FWB to Actual Lovers Universe.


End file.
